Pull You Up
by keepcalmandwrite
Summary: When Sherlock 'died' something trigged in Molly, suddenly her cosy crafted life was falling apart in front of her eyes and she was struggling to cope. So when Sherlock returns and see's her drowning in her troubles he can't resist helping her out and with John off living with Mary, he does have an extra bedroom in 221B. Sherlolly Angst/Drama. Full of feels and cuteness!


**This is my first Sherlock fic, so constructive criticism is always welcome and please review to let me know if it's good or bad **

"Go home Molly, you're clearly not in the right state of mind to be working." The pathologist cowered away from the sharp words of her boss, she bent down to her knees and began hastily picking up the autopsy tools she had just spilled all over the floor. "Honestly if you don't get your act together soon you can forget even coming back!" She nodded meekly in response and picked her tray back up with all the broken tools on top, she tried to respond but her mouth was dry and she could feel her lips cracking.

"I…err…I'm sorry sir, I just…" She tried to answer but couldn't even keep eye contact with the bristly man in front of her; instead she focused her attention on the shiny white floor beneath her scruffy discolored shoes.

"Look, I am giving you today and the rest of the weekend to get your head straight. But after that no more chances, I can't afford to keep someone as scattered as you on my team." His voice was sharp and it forced Molly to look at his face, he was a fairly large man, but he was filled out with fat, not muscle (ironic really considering he worked in a hospital full of health warnings) he had a thick moustache that always made Molly wonder if it caused him to sneeze. "The strangest thing about it all is that there is no reason this should be happening, I mean it's not as if you were ever close to Sherlock Holmes or even that he cared about you in the slightest, I just don't understand how it could cause you so many problems, his death shouldn't affect you like this."

"I…I don't know sir." Molly muttered, once again bowing her head. She thought back to that day, the knock on her door, just seeing John in tears and she had _known_, but hearing his broken voice confirmed it, '_Sherlock is dead…Molly, he's dead!' _She knew it was physically impossible but she felt it, she felt her heart shatter there and then. For the rest of that afternoon her and John had sat together crying as he rested his head on her lap and she had latched onto him like he was her anchor. Perhaps he was, after all he was the proof that Sherlock Holmes had been real…and he _had _been real.

Molly struggled to hold back tears as she walked swiftly from the lab and down the hospital corridors, she was well aware of her colleagues pointing and whispering about her. She had been friends with most of them too, that made it harder, that as soon as things turned bad they all abandoned her and instead resulted to pointing and laughing from a distance.

Her shoes unhelpfully squeaked as she tried to walk past unnoticed, they all turned to stare at the offending noise, so Molly tucked a messy strand of her hair behind her ear and kept her head high. Too high perhaps, because she walked straight into a trolley containing medication and bandages. With a horribly loud crash that echoed around the hall the trolleys contents sprayed all over the floor, she froze and so did everybody else. Hastily she bent down and began picking up all the items, no-one helped though, they just stood by and sniggered, Molly felt her face burning and practically threw the items back on the trolley, she stood back up, attempting to gather the remnants of her pride before striding towards the doors. Unfortunately she failed to notice the roll of bandages stuck on to the bottom of her shoe, unraveling as she walked and leaving a trail in her wake.

Molly shut her apartment door behind her and leaned heavily against the cool wood, she sighed as the water dripped down her back from her soaking hair, she had forgotten her umbrella (again) and as per the usual British winter weather it was raining…heavily (again). She squeezed her brown hair between her hands and watched as the water dribbled out, she walked slowly towards her kitchen and tired her best to ignore the pile of letters named 'Payment Due' on the front, she had gotten far behind on her bills and was struggling massively with debt.

She surveyed her living room with distaste, there were cardboard boxes dotted around everywhere because her landlord had been threatening her with removal if she didn't pay him soon and seeing as she just didn't have the money she was preparing herself for inevitable homelessness. There were books on nearly every visible surface and her cat Toby was curled up on the corner of her worn out sofa. With weary bones she dragged herself back into her kitchen and boiled the kettle for a much-needed cup of tea. As she waited for it to whistle she reflected back onto where it all went wrong…

After Sherlock's death, Molly's life had rapidly gone down hill; she honestly didn't believe it was just because of Sherlock's suicide, or maybe it was…but regardless she was suffering. Everyday it was harder for her to get out of bed, every person she met she just wanted to turn away from, except maybe John and Mary.

"Why can't I just be happy?" Molly moaned in frustration and buried her head into her hands. She glanced at herself in the metallic reflection of the mirror and just wanted to cry, her eyes were red and puffy but contrasted the dark circles that hung underneath them, her hair was wild and frizzy exactly how she hated it, and her whole body looked unbalanced and malnourished.

The last thing that Molly wanted right now was to see anybody but of course the way her luck was going there was soon a quick heavy rap at her door. She waited for a few moments to see if it was just a salesperson and they would leave eventually but the knock sounded out again more impatiently this time. Sighing heavily she rose to her feet and pulled open the door. Shock coursed through her as her eyes laid on the figure standing in her doorway…

"Sherlock?!"

**What did you think, this was a pretty boring chapter. **


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